


The First Time

by JessicaPendragon



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Trespasser DLC, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor leaves and Ellana returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

Cullen waits in front of the glistening glass bereft of any more tactics and commands. Only a few days ago it seemed that the issues of the Exalted Council were fleeting things against the vows in their hearts, but the mark consuming Ellana’s veins is an adversary with no known weaknesses. An adversary that once was their only salvation. He would call it unfair, but he has witnessed too many horrors to believe in something so naive. 

There are no useful strategies now, no fighting this fearsome villain beyond their control. He remembers the burning snow of Haven and the feeling of futility is much the same. Perhaps she will find a way again. A way back to him. He does not want to believe their last embrace was the final goodbye.

Something wet and warm brushes up against his hand. The mabari, his mabari, looks up with intelligent eyes full of concern, a high whine building in the back of its throat. Cullen drops his hand atop its head to comfort the animal as they can do nothing but pray she can save the world and herself again.

He waits until his bones aches from standing so stiff for so long. When the eluvian finally ripples, the sound of blades being drawn behind him by Inquisition soldiers echoes in the close quarters. Cullen holds his own weapon tight, heart trembling, as the first figure emerges.

The Tevinter lacks his usual elegance as he stumbles into the room. Dorian cracks his staff against the stone to steady himself before eyes snap up to take in the crowd. Alarm flashes for a second, then relief, then discomfort as his eyes meet Cullen’s. Another ragged thread holding the hope aloft in his chest frays. 

Blackwall barrels back into the world next, followed by the looming horns of The Iron Bull. The mammoth qunari holds something small and limp across his arms and Cullen catches only the flash of scarlet hair before he is racing forward. Bull does not protest when Cullen pulls her into his embrace. Ellana’s skin is grey, bloodied, and somehow he stills the turmoil inside long enough to hear the soft yet sweet breath moving through her. She moans but does not open her eyes, caught somewhere between waking and unaware.

Cullen stays nearby her bedside as the healers work. He watches as they peel away the elven armor encasing her left arm and cannot tell what is blackened mail or skin, but he can recognize the flash of ivory bone and feels his stomach turn at the sight. The mark has stop spreading, they say, but there will be no saving what remains in its wake. 

Throughout it all, Ellana barely moves or makes any sound beyond unintelligible streams of elven in strained whispers and he feels every cut for her.

It is some time before it is only the three of them- two Fereldens far from home and one elf whose home now stretches across the world. Cullen holds onto her hand, thumb brushing across bruised knuckles, and waits. It is a different type of impatience that settles into him than before. She is here with him and it is a miracle. He will wait for as long as needed, but he longs to hear her voice, feel her warm smile bloom inside again.

When Ellana finally stirs, he jumps from the chair and climbs next to her, heart thumping as hard as it did when they walked the battlements so many years ago. “Ella.”

Her eyes open and Cullen jerks away. They are not the eyes of the woman he trusts with his world, trusts with his heart. The iridescent green is gone and all there is a deep purple one could only know if they grew close. For a moment he is thrown back into that wretched tower, of demons wearing the skin of his friends, of violent, violet claws scratching away his sanity.

“Cullen?” The thoughts fly away at the sound of his name on her lips. Hers lips, her eyes, her. His Ellana. His  _wife_.

He reaches out to smooth the confused creases across her brow and she gives him a shaky smile as her own relief washes through the clouds of unconsciousness. “You made it back, thank the Maker.”

“Wrong god,” she mumbles.

“What do you mean?”

“Solas, he’s…” Ellana shakes her head. “The mark, my hand-”

The moment he fears comes too quickly. She lifts the limb and stares at the vibrant, white linen wrapped around what remains. For a few heartbeats she stares, open mouthed, before her whole body reacts. Ellana scrambles up and back against the wall, holding her arm as far away from her as she can.

“Cullen!” she gasps, her foreign eyes blowing wide with fear and alarm. Ellana cries out and there is a sharp agony to it that cuts hot through his heart. He cannot share in this pain, but he won’t leave her alone with it. Cullen reaches for her, a hand slipping around her waist, another around her back, and pulls her into his lap. 

Her fingers claw into his tunic as she buries her face into his shoulder. “No, this can’t…no!”

Cullen holds her through the grief and does his best to soothe her with touches and quiet whispers. He can offer her very little but everything he is and hope it is enough.

Eventually Ellana’s sobs turn to sighs and she unfolds herself from the comfort of his sanctuary. She moves to clean her face with her missing hand and gives a quick, broken snort at the thought. “Well, this will take some getting used to.”

The bed shifts beside them as Cullen’s mabari nudges its heavy head between their bodies. Ellana’s amusement turns sincere when it begins to lick the tears from her face with enthusiasm.

“Mana, ma falon!” Ellana pushes the massive face away enough to wrap her arm around its neck. Fingers scratch up and down the wide bridge of its snout and Cullen suspects it is to comfort them both. “Have you picked a name yet? You can’t just keep calling him ‘pup’ forever.”

She looks up and her eyes shock him again. The difference is easier to forget than the larger influence of the mark’s removal. This week’s revelations and changes will simply take time for them both it seems. 

His face must show his confusion and Ellana tilts her head. “What is it?”

“There’s…something else.”

It is a bit of a struggle to eradicate himself from the bodies piled atop his legs, but eventually Cullen manages to rise from the bed and cross the cold, stone floors. He frowns down at the ornate, gilded hand mirror on the far table before picking up the offensive Orlesian item and returning to her side. 

He gives her what he hopes is an encouraging smile and turns the mirror around so she can see herself. Cullen holds his breath.

“Oh!” Ellana gasps, reaching her fingers up to touch the skin beneath her eye. After a few seconds of turning her head back and forth, as if the mirror might change with the angle, she looks up at him with a wide smile. “It’s gone. The power of the anchor really is gone.” 

“And that’s alright?”

“Yes! I mean I’m not sure how it might change other things, but I’m just me again. I’d almost forgotten…” Ellana glances up at him again and her smile falters. “So I guess this is the first time you’ve seen the real me. Well,” she waves her severed arm, “most of me.”

She turns away from him, body shifting to make a retreat. “I know this isn’t what you…I’d understand if-”

“Ellana.” For a brief flash, he’s almost angered she would even consider it after everything he’s said, everything they’ve been through, but he can’t imagine what she must be feeling now. He cannot steal the thoughts from her mind yet he can stop the words from hurting her further. 

Cullen kneels and takes her face in his hands. Mouths meet, an embrace long overdue and longed for as he wondered if this mission would be her last. He fills each kiss with the endless well of adoration and affection inside, with the relief and hope for a future snatched back from the edge of oblivion. 

Fingers run beneath her eyes to wipe away her remaining tears, lips following close behind to taste the sting of sorrow left behind. He will do all he can for the rest of their lives to make sure she understands. “I love you and nothing will change that. You are beautiful in every way.”

“Even-”

“You are beautiful,” he repeats and then smirks. “As beautiful as the day I married you.”

A bright laugh shatters the heavy cage around them. “What, two days ago?” 

Ellana wraps her legs around his body and they mold together, snug and supportive, and he knows things will be alright. Not easy or simple. There will be hard days and new challenges to weather, but they will be endure it. 

Cullen looks into her eyes, not the eyes of the Inquisitor but the eyes of his wife, and falls in love like it is the first time all over again.


End file.
